


62. Prying Eyes

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [62]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for references to Antony's illegal activities - please note that Antony's mun does not condone or support her pup's actions/thoughts with regard to his work activities, etc - Antony has a totally different sense of morality than the majority of us do and it wouldn't be stretching to call him a sociopath</p>
    </blockquote>





	62. Prying Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for references to Antony's illegal activities - please note that Antony's mun does not condone or support her pup's actions/thoughts with regard to his work activities, etc - Antony has a totally different sense of morality than the majority of us do and it wouldn't be stretching to call him a sociopath

"I love watching you work," Antony says with a smile, keeping out of Stephen's way as he packs up for the night. They're just waiting on script changes, and then they can go. And Antony's really glad he came over, the shoot running much longer even than Stephen had anticipated. "Especially now that I've learned to trust your stunt coordinators." He grins.

Glancing up from where he's shoving a pile of dirty work out clothes into his bag Stephen grins. "James is genius, the team are the best... I really believe that, for a TV show, we have film grade people working with us in that aspect." He moves away to unplug his laptop and pack that away, winding up the cable and tucking it in a side pocket. "I am so done with today."

"I don't blame you," Antony says, leaning down to look at the various cast photos Stephen's got pinned up around the trailer. "Are you back in at the same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, another long one too, but then I should be off the day after if this all goes to plan, I just have an interview to do some point in the afternoon." Stephen moves over toward his lover, taking the time to admire his ass, before stepping up behind him and sliding his arms around Antony's waist.

"Oh!" Surprised, Stephen tugs up Antony's shirt edge to expose the holster and gun tucked in his waistband. It's extremely unusual for Antony to wear his gun around Stephen, unusual, but not unheard of.

"Sorry. We're just taking some extra precautions since that last job," Antony says, pulling his shirt back down. He rarely carries when not working but the continued disagreement with their now ex-clients has left a bad taste in his mouth. Left him a little more on edge than usual.

Stephen's brows climb at that, and a sick cold feeling settles unpleasantly in his belly. "What the fuck Tony?" He backs up a step. "Extra precautions?" As a Canadian, America's gun culture is something Stephen still struggles to get comfortable with - and this? This is too close to home. "Why the fuck do you need a gun because a contract went sour?"

Antony would really love to sugarcoat this, protect Stephen from all the ugliness his work entails, but there's no way of making this anything except what it is. "Because these guys are assholes and they're not a hundred percent trustworthy even when things go their way so..." he shrugs, although he's not dismissing it, not at all. He just hopes Stephen can let it go at that.

"But a gun?" Stephen shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth, before running his hand, palm flat up his face and over his hair to settle at the back of his neck. "Are you in danger? Real danger?" he asks, his whole face contorted into a mask of worry.

"I hope not," Antony says, touching Stephen's hip. "Like I said, it's a precaution - and hopefully things'll blow over."

Stephen blows out a long breath. "Why didn't you tell me? I deserve to know this kind of shit for fuck sake..."

"I thought I did tell you," Antony frowns. "You knew about the job..." But that doesn't mean Stephen put two and two together. Why would he? And they don't really talk about this aspect of his work. "Look. If I was working here for my company, I'd be carrying all the time because I'd be on-call 24/7. It's not that big a deal."

"You said the job had gone south, but it was abroad, why the hell would I think that any fallout from that would follow you home?"

Right at that moment there's a knock on his trailer door. "Not NOW!" he snaps out, his voice raised in an uncharacteristic display of temper.

"It probably hasn't," Antony says through gritted teeth, doing his best to keep his voice down, this talk between the two of them. "But I'd be a fucking moron not to be extra careful when these guys are this pissed off and crazy stupid enough to maybe do something about it."

"Fuck," Stephen turns away and stalks to the door, yanking it open, he exchanges the minimum amount of communication with the PA and returns moments later with a wad of paperwork. "We can go," he says shoving the script notes in his bag and hiking it up onto his shoulder.

Christ. Antony rubs a hand over his face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you outright," he says. "I should have." Although he's not sure what good that would have done either of them.

"Yeah you should have," Stephen bites back, still too pissed to let Antony off just yet. He's tired, stressed from his long day, and that's conspiring to shorten his temper, and darken his mood. "Can we go home now?"

Antony exhales softly. "Sure." He steps out of the trailer and waits for Stephen to lock up.

With the trailer shut up Stephen heads toward the exit, Antony falling in beside him, it's dark, and has been for a long while. "Where did you park?" he asks. He'd got a car in this morning rather than driving himself, knowing that Antony would be picking him up. But right now, a solitary drive home would have given him some time to cool down.

"On the side street," Antony answers. "By the Thai place." He glances at Stephen but then he's back to scanning the landscape around them, constantly aware of their surroundings, the tension between them filling the night air. Fuck.

Hand tucked in the strap of his bag, Stephen nods, head down. He's trying desperately to work through his anger; he doesn't have the energy for it, and he hates being at odds with his lover, even when it's something big, something important, like this.

When they step out onto the main street, Antony looks left then right but then back again, the last casual, like he's only checking for traffic as they cross, but he's already seen the car, already noted the two shadows sitting in it. Could be innocent enough but could be something more. One thing's for sure, it's not his guys. He sent them home hours ago.

Luckily there's enough light from the streetlamps and whoever it is hasn't managed to park themselves fully in the darkness so by the time they reach the other side, he has half a license plate and a colour, make and model. He glances over his shoulder as they step into the side street but the car's still dark, its lights off, so whoever it is, they're only surveillance if anything. But they couldn't have followed him which means - fuck - if anything, they were watching for Stephen. Suddenly there's a coldness that settles over Antony, a chill that runs down his spine, settling at the base. And he's tempted to go back, put a bullet in each of their fucking heads, because he _knows_ that's exactly who they are, and that's exactly why they're there.

As wrapped up as Stephen is in his own anger and tiredness, it doesn't take long to notice there is a whole other level of tension in his lover. There's a tick to the corner of Antony's jaw he's never seen there before, he glances around as they approach their car, but decides against saying anything - the whole situation seeming volatile to say the least.

Antony unlocks the car, making sure Stephen's in before he gets behind the wheel. He glances in the rearview mirror but there's still nothing. Christ. Maybe he was just imagining things, the whole argument knocking his fucking radar all to hell. But as he pulls onto the road, sure enough, there are suddenly lights behind them, a ways back, but there and it's definitely the same car, the same two shadows.

Arms crossed Stephen turns to stare out of the window, as the minutes tick past and his initial flare of anger fades, it's replaced with a sense of uncertainty. Maybe he over-reacted? Maybe he should have paid more attention? And maybe Antony's obvious anger now is directed at him for getting pissy in the first place. _Shit.Shit.Shit._

Eyes flickering between the road and the rearview mirror, Antony takes a different way home than usual, taking a few turns that let him know, without a doubt, that they're being followed. Luckily he knows a lot more about Los Angeles traffic lights than these assholes and it only takes a few defensive driving maneouvres before he's able to leave them behind, stuck at a red light and behind a large truck.

If Stephen noticed the odd route home he doesn't mention it. His attention is turned inward as his mind twists the conversation, the _argument_ around in his head. He knows Antony sometimes carries, he knows about the guns in the safe, and that his lover practises with them regularly at a licensed range - he also knows that Antony's staff are sometimes armed when carrying out their duties, but this... this makes Stephen have to look at aspects of his lover's work he'd rather ignore, rather pretend didn't exist at all. And so he takes their row and turns it around, making it his fault; for questioning his Sir, for not trusting his lover.

"I'm sorry I over-reacted, I should trust you."

Antony has to make a conscious effort to let the tension drain from his body, to turn his attention, his focus, back to his boy, his partner. In the back of his mind he's already making plans and back-up plans for those plans. Christ. "Yeah, you should," he says softly, finally, blowing out a breath. "But I should have said something. I'm just never sure how much you want to hear." And why would he have Stephen worrying about something that might never come to pass?

"I know. It's my fault," Stephen nods, grateful as they pull into the garage and Antony's parking space. "I guess I need to think about that before I kick off."

"I should've told you I was carrying," Antony says, reaching over to give Stephen's hand a squeeze before he gets out and locks up the car. "I should've realized you'd notice."

"It's been a long day, can we just... leave it, and talk about this when I've slept and I haven't got another long day ahead of me?" He drops his bag between his feet when he steps into their elevator. It doesn't occur to Stephen that maybe asking for that 'space' isn't just another way to avoid looking too closely at what Antony does - or what danger he might be in. Denial being his self protection.

Antony nods. "Are you gonna have a shower?" Stephen usually does and he wants the time to track that license plate. Call Marcus. Make sure Stephen's got protection on him 24/7 until he can take care of this.

"Yeah a long and hot one," Stephen nods. "And maybe we can both have a scotch before bed huh?" He turns to glance at his lover, the offer a kind of peace offering.

Antony nods again, but this time there's a smile to accompany it. "I have that Balvenie."

The smile is returned, Stephen knows he's been forgiven. "That would be perfect," he agrees, the elevator comes to a stop and he scoops up his bag. They pause to swap out Stephen's collars before moving into the apartment proper, Stephen toes off his shoes and cocks his head toward the bathroom. "I may be some time," he says wryly.

"That's okay. Take your time. I have a couple of calls I should make," Antony says, kissing Stephen on the mouth as he pulls out his phone.

Stephen drops his bag in their bedroom, tosses his clothes in the hamper and moments later he's turning his face up to a cascade of hot water. The shower in the main bath is large, with a huge 'rainfall' head to it and he _loves_ it after a long day on set. He loves it even more today after a long ass day that took a shitty left turn.

Antony sticks his gun in the safe and flips open his laptop, quickly running a search through the DMV using the information he has. Sure enough, the vehicle's leased to the owner of a local club with ties to their ex-clients. Morons. He dials Marcus, dipping into the other room, the door half-closed just in case. Explains the situation.

"Fuck." His partner blows out a breath on the other end of the line. Marcus knew they were assholes and crazy assholes at that but if you never worked for the crazies in their line of work, you'd never work at all. "Do they not know who they're dealing with?" he says.

"My thoughts exactly," Antony says. "I was tempted to take them out right there and then."

Which is so not good. While Antony's not one of the crazies, he'd blow these guys away without a second thought if he truly thought Stephen was in danger. "Do you want me to take care of them?" Marcus asks, thankful Antony showed some restraint - and that Stephen was there to inspire it.

"Not yet, but maybe you can have a talk with this guy? The club owner?"

"Definitely," Marcus says. "And I'll put John and Natasha on Stephen as well. I don't want to pull the others off in case he wonders why."

Skin pink from the heat and the length of time he'd spent under the water, Stephen steps out of the shower and grabs a bath sheet. He wraps it around himself and starts to rub himself dry, he feels better, more balanced and he's looking forward to bed.

Minutes later he's padding down the hall to the kitchen, sweat pants hanging off his hips.

"What are you going to do?" Marcus asks as they're wrapping up.

"I'll call our ex-client," Antony says. "See if I can't talk some sense into him." He sits up straighter, positive he hears Stephen in the other room. "I've got to go. Let me knows what happens?"

"Of course," Marcus responds with a nod. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Antony hangs up and closes his laptop, shoving it into the safe along with everything else. He grabs the bottle of Balvenie and closes the door behind him, meeting Stephen by the kitchen island. "You look refreshed."

Stephen glances up. "Yeah I feel a lot better." He'd been able to hear that Antony was on the phone, but not what he was saying. He decides not to ask, not wanting to rile his lover again tonight. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Maybe just some cheese and crackers," Antony says, opening the scotch and pulling down two tumblers from the cabinets. "Did you get dinner?"

"Yeah, I grabbed something just before you got there," Stephen moves around his lover and setting out plates and then pulling open the fridge. "They make sure I eat with all the physical work I have to do."

"Good." Antony pours them both a healthy measure. "I'm glad to know they take care of you," he says with a small smile as he touches Stephen's hip in passing.

Stacking everything on a tray, Stephen carries it out to the living room, he sets it down on the coffee table and then drops down into the couch with a sigh. "On my next day off? Can I just stay in bed and sleep?"

Antony laughs, settling in beside him. "Yes. Just remind me I said so."

"Oh I will." Stephen picks up his scotch and takes a sip, rolling the amber liquid over his tongue he hums out his pleasure and drops his head against the sofa back, his eyes closed.

"Good?" Antony asks, taking the time to nose his scotch.

"Huh huh." Stephen doesn't even open his eyes. He's bone tired, and his head is still full of conflicting thoughts. Should he ask Antony for more details about his work? Or should he simply learn to mind his mouth? And all of Antony's inferred warnings about 'what I do' also play on Stephen's mind... what does it mean? And will he have to finally acknowledge the fact he's almost certain some of what his lover does is not legal or lawful.

Antony finally takes a sip, letting the liquid slide down his throat, the taste absolutely exquisite. "Forty years does make quite the difference," he says, taking another sip before he dares muddy his palate with food.

Stephen doesn't respond, he simply takes another mouthful himself and then pushes up, making up two plates of crackers and cheese, setting one in front of his lover. "Here, and when we're done...I'm gonna hit bed and scan my script changes, okay?"

Antony nods. "I'll take care of the dishes," he says, starting to feel pretty tired himself, the effect of adrenaline wearing off.

It's a weirdly normal, quiet end to a bizarre day - and Stephen finds himself having to repress the urge to ask questions he's too tired to deal with right now. _Another time, when you've had time to process._ When they're done snacking and his glass is empty, Stephen disappears down to the bedroom, props himself up in bed and starts to work his way through his script, he's asleep moments later.

The dishes placed in the dishwasher, the counters wiped down and the scotch put away, Antony makes sure they're locked up and turns off the lights, making his way to the bedroom. His heart swells at the sight of Stephen, asleep, script still on his lap, his bedside lamp blazing away.

Antony undresses, his clothes dumped in the hamper, and then carefully eases the script from Stephen's grasp.

Stirring just enough to murmur a nonsensical noise and wriggle down under the covers, Stephen doesn't even open his eyes, and when Antony slides in beside him, he presses close before settling.


End file.
